


A World of Blood and Grayscale

by AuraWhiteFox



Category: Durarara!!, Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Silent Hill Fusion, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Body Horror, Body Worship, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Character Death, Death, Depressed Orihara Izaya, Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Human Sacrifice, Lima Syndrome, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Minor Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Monsters, Multi, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Possible Main Character Death, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sacrifice, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Survival Horror, Tsundere, Tsundere Heiwajima Shizuo, Unresolved Sexual Tension, a lot of it, apathetic Izaya, heavily, inspired by Silent Hill 4, might become a full pairing later, sarcastic Izaya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 21:37:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21063584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuraWhiteFox/pseuds/AuraWhiteFox
Summary: Izaya woke to a world that no longer made any sense. He's imprisoned in his own home and the only means of escape for him seems to be traveling to other messed up places through an impossible hole in his bathroom wall.Also who the hell is this Shizuo asshole that keeps on stalking him?!Currently on Permanent Hiatus/Up for Adoption





	A World of Blood and Grayscale

Izaya was slow to awake as sleep clang to his eyelids making them ache with dryness while a dull ache quickly began to pound in his head herding a margine.

Opening his eyes, he stared dully up at his ceiling.

Seeing without really  _ seeing _ his ceiling fan and off-white ceiling, the fan slowly turning and while he couldn’t feel any kind of breeze, he could hear the wooden blades slicing through the air, making a whoosh noise that made his headache worse with each passing second.

He wasn’t even sure how the fan was moving, since there was no airflow in his room. But even that little mystery wasn’t big enough for him to give it more than a passing thought.

Everything was silent otherwise, it was the kind of silence that would claw at your ears and make your mind numb with stupidity. 

Today marked Day 3 of Izaya’s shitty week.

Izaya slipped off his bed, letting the sheets fall to the floor without a care, then walked to his dresser to change. 

He hadn’t changed out of yesterday’s clothing the night before, something he sorely regretted as he could feel the dirt piling on his skin.

He stripped and left his dirty laundry on the floor, not bothering to pick anything up. 

He counted what clean clothing he had left absently, making a note of how little he had left. 

It seems that procrastinating doing his laundry had come to bite him in the ass. 

Putting on a pair of jeans he left his chest bare for the moment and grabbed his last clean black shirt before walking out of the room.

Ignoring everything around him he walked down his staircase and made his way into his kitchen area before pulling a water bottle from one of the cabinets and a clean wash rag from under the sink. After getting it wet he swiftly wiped the dried sweat and grime from his torso and face. 

He wished he could take a shower but all the plumping had stopped working days ago, right around the time all this weird shit began happening to him…

Izaya shook his head violently to dispel his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about it, not yet. Not until he was fully cleaned, with that thought he pushed down his jeans to give his privates a quick courtesy wipe down. It wouldn’t do for him to gain an infection due to poor hygiene after all.

Dropping the soiled cloth into the sink where three similar clothes laid discarded.

He took the half full bottle of water and sauntered to his living room area before sitting down behind his desk. Gazing at his state-of-the-art high technical computer with a dead-eye stare.

Making sure to slowly sip at the stale water he ignored his grumbling, empty stomach and just stared at his reflection in the black screen of his monitor. 

“Well who knows, maybe today will be my lucky day.” 

Izaya chose to ignore how his voice echoed in the empty air, giving it an almost creepy quality.

Pressing and holding down the power button, he waited a few seconds but of course nothing happened.

There was no sound of tiny fans clicking on in the server, no blank screen lightening up with his personal introductions. 

No nothing. Just like the previous two days of nothing.

“Fuck this.” 

Izaya groaned loudly and stood up, kicking his office chair away from him in a fit of anger.

It looked like the power was still not connecting to his living quarters.

It was like his apartment was in some kind of dead zone for any outside influences, and it wasn’t just the electricity that wasn’t working properly. There was no clean water, from his sink or toilet. It had made things problematic after a while since he couldn’t properly use the toilet to get rid of his waste. 

Luckily for him after the first day he had found himself not really needing to use the washroom, since he hadn’t eaten properly in days he hadn’t had much to execrate. 

Sometimes a greenish black sludge would come out of the pipes if he waited long enough but that tend to give off an offensive odor that made his eyes water and his head spin.

He would  _ not  _ be drinking that, much less bathing in it.

Nothing that connected him to the outside world was getting through to his high-rise apartment. 

No internet, no phone-line, no water, no electricity.

After putting it off as long as possible he finally moved closer to his front door. Even through the wooden posts that created a little alcove he would see his door from where he was standing a few feet away.

He didn’t bother to hold back the loud scream of frustration and fear that had been building up inside of him for the past few days as he glared at it.

There were large chains connected to his door, they’d only appeared the day before but it didn’t lessen the shock value at seeing them again.

The chains were numerous, all covered in dirt and rust but strong and unmovable. They were bolted into the wall and each one connected to each other, making his door impregnatable to outside forces.

None of it made sense, there was no rhyme or reason to any of it, but they completely blocked the exit. No one could enter and he couldn’t get out.

The worse thing? It was all done on his side of the door.

Which meant that whoever had done this to him had been in the apartment with him. Might have even watched him in his sleep and done all manner of creepy things to him while he had been unaware.

And the message that coated the door had Izaya shuddering.

_ Don’t Go Out!! _

_ Pretty little fleas like you should stay safe inside. _

_ Iz-a-ya _

_ Shizuo _

“Like hell I’m staying inside here forever, fucking asshole.” Izaya growled lowly as he reread the message for what felt like the hundredth time. 

He’d been trying to find some kind of hidden meaning to the words since they’d first appeared but he was getting the feeling that there was no hidden message.

The freak who wrote this meant every word exactly. No sneaky hidden message or code. Simplistic to a fault.

It didn’t help that the name written at the end of the message felt familiar to him.

Shizuo

Who was this Shizuo to him? It was like a creeping sensation in the back of his mind. It was driving him to distraction and that wasn’t something he could afford right now.

He flung himself at his couch and glared towards his door.

Three days of this so-called hell. Of nothing to do but stew in his own dark thoughts and wait for this asshole to come and possibly try to kill or fuck him. Not that Izaya would let that happened, he’d rather gut the person and use the freak’s intestines as a decoration. 

It wasn’t the fact that he was unable to leave his apartment that made him feel…uncertain. He’d already been something of a recluse to begin with and before this fuckery mess happened he hadn’t left his apartment for almost a week. Which accounted for his low food and dirty laundry situation.

He’d come to rely on the internet’s function of ordering groceries and other necessaries of life and having them be delivered to his apartment door.

So not seeing another human face wasn’t bothering him too much. Where once upon a time the very thought of not seeing his so-called beloved humans daily had caused him stress, now the idea of joining the masses made him feel vaguely ill.

He couldn’t remember when that had changed, it must have been gradual enough where there was no significant date or time that he’d gone from lovingly watching people’s lives to sitting in his apartment and interacting with the outside world via chat or email.

So not being able to access any of his online content was seriously being to piss him off. He was in mourning for his computer, it wasn’t even about his hobby of trolling people’s lives.

His  _ job _ was the net.

Izaya flinched and closed his eyes as he thought of all of his clients who were undoubtedly waiting on him to finish his part of the jobs he’d been contracted for. 

As an underground informant, his whole job consisted of the passing and gaining of information, and not just about the cases he was employed.

But virtually everything about his clients and the lives of the people around them was known to him. It paid well to have all kinds of data on everyone he could. Blackmail wasn’t out of his realm of influences so if the client failed to pay up or tried to find him he was ready to checkmate them.

Over the years of his occupation he’d used several different tactics to gain the information that he hoarded like a dragon does to his gold but he found one of the most effective ways to gain people’s trust and information was the internet. 

To be more precise chatrooms, although he did his fair share of hacking when a client or a target got too cautious to speak to him.

He had so many different aliases that it was a wonder that he could keep track of all of them. When one alias got too hot to use he would discard it and all relevant information that was attached. It was safer for him that way, so no one could track him down and connect him to any of the people he created or impersonated.

The only time he actually needed to interact with someone was when he would use carriers to deliver documents or packages for him. The people he employed were discreet and got paid very well for their services. He even had a few of his carriers investigate places or people for him if he feels they would be discreet enough at their job for some extra pay.

He was careful about their information as he didn’t want to resort to blackmail for them in the case of them deciding to rat him out to anyone wanting to take him out. 

Izaya couldn’t help but wonder if this Shizuo was apart of one of his employees lives or maybe a client that he overlooked.

Even with how careful he was it wasn’t out of the realm of impossibility that he may have missed a step or two. Sometimes overconfidence wasn’t a virtue of his.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t go out occasionally, there was a small park across from his apartment complex that he liked to frequent when the weather was nice and cloudy. He loved to go out there and stand under the cold wind where the smell of rain was just on the tip of his tongue and the crackling of lighting and the rumble of thunder was distant but closing in.

He was familiar with his neighbors as well.

Although to be fair he knew them in the way only a very informed informant would know, not because of actually conversing face to face and making friends.

Like in the case of his neighbor, a Miss Namie Yagiri.

Out of everyone in his apartment complex he could say with confidence that he knew her the best and that wasn’t just because of the weird hole in the wall that connected his living room floor with her bedroom below.

He’d been knowledgeable of her habits long before he got a front row view.

He could remember clearly that the peek-hole hadn’t been there previously three days ago.

It confused and worried him that the hole looked old and worn, like someone had chipped slowly and methodically at the wooden panels until their whole eye could see clearly into the others’ room.

He’d found out about it on the first day when this whole situation had started.

When he had first noticed that nothing was working as it should, when he tried to exit his apartment door to scream at management for turning off his water and power, when he realized that he couldn’t leave. 

His door was closed shut and no matter the pressure and force he couldn’t get it to open. When he started to bang loudly on the walls and screaming himself raw as an unfamiliar feeling of claustrophobia began to cloud his mind. He tried to gain his neighbors attention below him and cursed his luck for having to have the top most apartment to himself instead of living on one of the lower levels that housed two to three apartments a floor.

At the very least he knew that many of his neighbors liked to go up to his floor frequently because the elevator didn’t go to the rooftop and you had to go past his door to get the roof exit.

Many tenants liked to go up there for different reasons, and Izaya loved to watch them through the cameras he installed secretly up there. 

He even watched them through his peek-hole on his door when they stopped outside his door, forgetting frequently that anyone lived in the penthouse apartment.

He screamed and kicked at the walls and floor, banging on his windows and door in the hopes of gaining someone’s attention but it was like no one could hear him or the sounds he made. 

He watched people pass by his door from the peek-hole frequently but no one spared his door so much as a glance as he kicked it again and again.

If he didn’t know better he would think they were purposely ignoring him. But after he calmed down some the first night he knew that the likelihood of that was next to none.

It was something that confused him, that if they weren’t doing it on purpose then no one could hear him at all. It wasn’t natural or logical and that was something he didn’t like. At all.

He’d tried to break the windows the second day but it was like some force was strengthening the glass because he’d broken a solid wooden chair without even scratching the surface of the glass.

After the chains grew out of who knows where after that he was beginning to get more pissed off then frightened, or at least that’s what he was telling himself.

If he could just find a way to gain Namie’s attention then he was sure that he would be able to find a way out of his apartment. He hadn’t tried screaming through the hole yet, mostly because he was kind of wary of her sticking something pointy into his eye if she saw him peeking on her. 

It didn’t have anything to do with some misplaced embarrassment since the first time he noticed the hole he’d been overcome with the urge to look down to see where it went. It had only taken him two seconds to realize that his downstairs neighbor had been in the middle of masturbating, with the lights on and the blankets thrown to the ground.

He may have watched the entire process for purely scientific value. 

She also had the most expansive toy selection he’d seen in anything less than a hardcore BDSM site.

His job took him to odd places on the dark net at times.

Today though he was going to chance it, undressed state or not.

If he gained her attention and pissed her off enough by his byplay of yesterday she would probably call the police on him, something that he would normally avoid but he would really like to exit his sudden cage promptly and if he had to deal with the cops to gain freedom so be it.

A sudden shout from the hallway alerted him to a disturbance. He smirked widely, even if he couldn’t actually interact with anyone he still had his pep-hole. Hopefully whatever was happening out there would be in his line of sight.

Izaya giggled softly as he got up from the couch and made his way to his door, taking care to avoid touching the chains or the door itself.

He so loved conflict. It was even better when it was done under his own manipulations but at this point he would take what he could get.

Leaning forward he peered through the small glass hole with eagerness.

“Oh.” 

He could see Namie yelling at the occupant of another apartment, Kyohei Kadota. The man himself didn’t seem too troubled by the yelling though. 

If Izaya strained his eyes he could see a torn bag of gardening soil on the ground. 

That’s right, he’d forgotten that Namie liked to care for the small vegetable and flower garden on the roof, she and a few other tenants liked to tend to it and often traded goods or money for the fresh produce.

“Look Miss, I’m sorry your dirt fell when I bumped into you. I have some extra eggs in my apartment, if you want, I could give you some to replace the dirt.”

“I don’t want any of your rotten little eggs, I want you to pay me back with interest and go buy me some replacement fertilizer, then you can put it in the raised beds in payment.” 

It was kind of fun to watch the usually calm man of apartment 104 beginning to get annoyed with the money loving witch of apartment 303.

As far as Izaya knew Kadota’s best friends Walker Yumasaki and Erika Karisawa lived on Namie’s floor below, so it made sense that if he’d been on that floor instead of the ground floor where his apartment was situated. What made less sense was the reason he was on Izaya’s floor. Since as far as Izaya knew Kadota hadn’t shown an interest in the roof like many of the other tenants of the apartment building.

He’d spoken a word or two to Kadota when he had first moved in. 

His first impression of the man was that he was polite and distant, just the kind of person Izaya didn’t mind interacting with if forced too.

Sadly, the man came with two of the most annoying people that Izaya ever had the displeasure of meeting and so he decided to keep his usual distance.

Erika had the annoying hobby of pairing any handsome guy she meets with another random man. She was obsessed with homosexual interactions so much that she saw intimate signals in the most innocent of situations.

Whenever Izaya had no choice but to go out he would do his upmost to avoid her, but that meant he had to avoid Kadota as well since it was rare that the three of them weren’t together. 

There had once been a fourth member of that little party group but Izaya had long forgotten the man’s name after he moved out from Kadota’s second bedroom.

Not being acquainted with Kadota was a small price to pay so that he wouldn’t have to hear Erika’s fantasies about some muscle-bound man taking him dry in the hallway while he cried tears of pleasured pain.

That woman went into painful detail about that particular fantasy while Izaya had been stuck in the elevator with her once.

After a short while of watching the drama outside his door he decided once again to see if he could grab anyone’s attention, even if by now he knew better.

“Hey!” Izaya shouted as loud as he could. “Get me out of here!” 

Of course, there was no reaction from the people on the other side of the door. 

He decided to see if maybe insults would work better than a pled for help.

“Oi Namie! Why don’t you tell Kadota about how when you climax you shout filthy, incestuous, sexual desires about your own little brother?” Izaya shouted through the door. 

Nothing, none of the stammering, screaming mess that such a sentence would have induced if heard in the first place.

“Fire! Rape! Murder! Fucking anything you stupid, little, rotten sacks of useless meat!”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before walking away, feeling decisively bored now with the people on the other side. 

They were utterly without use if they couldn’t contribute to fixing his little problem.

He didn’t need them or anyone else, he would figure out his own way out of this hell. He’d never needed help before and he wouldn’t start to look for it now.

Besides he was a lot cooler headed today then he had been the past few days. Maybe it was because nothing had actually happened to him other than imprisonment, leading him into a false sense of security.

Either way he was going to be ready for whatever he needed to be ready for.

The shrill ringing of a phone startled him enough to lose his balance and he feel to the ground harshly.

“what the hell?” Izaya slowly got up and looked around. 

Despite what his ears were telling him Izaya did not own a landline phone. He’d owned several cell phones and burners for his business but they were all dead, even though he knew for a fact that most of them had been fully charged with power before.

Moving he was able to pinpoint that the noise was coming from upstairs.

He followed the sound up the stairs, past his bathroom and hallway closet until he was back in his bedroom.

On his bedside desk was something that had not been there just a short while ago.

A corded phone-set.

It was still ringing.

Izaya rushed forward and picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Izaya speaking. May I ask who this is?” 

“…help…me…”

A young man’s voice echoed in the static before cutting off.

Izaya slowly put the receiver down and only then noticed that the cord that connected the phone to the outside was cut.

He stared at it for a few more minutes before reaching into the small drawer underneath the mysterious phone and pulled out a switch blade.

Someone was in here with him. That was the only way to explain the phones existence.

“Someone’s trying to fuck with me.” He mumbled and looked around the sparse room. “Well let’s see how much they like it when I fuck up their face.”

Straining his hearing he moved silently from his room to the open hallway. Taking a quick peek into his closet shown nothing more then jackets and other random objects.

The only thing left on the upper floor was the small library nook that he could see from here was empty of any hiding bodies.

Well…there was one last place.

His bathroom. 

Somewhere he had failed to go into since his first incident with the black sludge water. 

He had failed to take into account someone hiding in there after that fact. Something that could have gotten him killed and if he was a lesser man, he would have smacked himself on the head for his stupidity. 

Instead he flicked his switchblade open and crept towards the closed door. Pressing his ear to the wood he failed to hear any noise indicating that someone else was present.

Still, it never hurt to be careful. 

With that thought he slowly pushed the door open, keeping the blade in front of him with a firm grip.

At first, he didn’t notice anything different, his black tile floor was spotless, and his large tube was empty. The small shower nook in the corner had its glass door open so he was able to see it was empty. 

It was only when he looked at the opposite wall which housed the toilet and sink did he notice it.

The large gapping hole in the wall that all but shattered most of his large mirror.

How had he missed that?!

Even if it had happened in the past two days he would have still heard the noise such a hole would have generated when it was created.

He walked closer to the hole and peered inside but he couldn’t see where it went.

Logically it must have lead to the room on the other side of the wall but if remembered correctly this wall faced the outside wall.

So, if he went through the hole, he should find himself outside. Maybe even to the emergency fire staircase which he could take down to street level.

Fidgeting in place for a second Izaya considered his options before admitting to himself that he didn’t have any.

Inside the creepy hole he would go.

Wiggling his skinny body into the small hole took some work. Luckily for him he was just small enough to fit, otherwise he wouldn’t have attempted it. He’d rather not get stuck and have no one to help him get back out again.

He crawled for a while, noticing that there was a small light ahead of him, so the exit was nearby. 

But as he crept forward he noted absently that it was taking a lot longer then it should, even if he was moving at a snail pace the wall between his bathroom and the outside wasn’t this big.

Swearing under his breath he picked up the pace, he needed out of this situation before he descended into a panic attack.

He wavered suddenly, his vision turning grey and hazy. He felt a overwhelming need to rest and try as he might to fight it he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“Fuck…” 

Izaya lowered his head, squinting down at his clenching hands and his knife.

It was the last thing he saw before blacking out.

**Author's Note:**

> So...yea.  
I first began writing this in 2015 and I just found it again. I only got so far before being distracted by the next shinning thing. like a goddamn magpie.  
In the hopes of sparking any inspiration and desire to actually write a full length story, even if it doesn't span the whole game it should have a beginning, middle and end! Im going to post what I had already written. No promises that the next bit will be up anytime soon. If you read my stuff you should know better then to expect me to finish my wips.  
Im terrible and will go and hide now.  
Hope you like this anyway. If you have any questions I'll try to answer them, although considering I'm playing it by ear things can change at the drop of a hat.


End file.
